Bad Idea
by Gillian Middleton
Summary: Part Five of the Cute As... Series


**Bad Idea**

by Gillian Middleton

John got through the briefing and routine medical check as quickly as possible. Dr Keller checked his hands and forearms carefully, the cool alcohol swab swiping over his skin and coming away rusty red.

"It's not my blood," he said tonelessly, and she met his eyes and nodded. He could feel Teyla's eyes on him as she was cleared, but he just shook his head when she asked him if he wanted to talk.

Ronon shrugged off the offer of pain killers and stalked out of the infirmary, shoulders stiff.

Rodney was quiet.

The door to his quarters closed behind him with a quiet swish and John leaned back against it with a sigh. He just needed a little while without staring eyes and probing questions. Just a little while to let the pain bleed through. Just a little while before he put his commander face back on and left his sanctuary and returned to his duties.

The door opened behind him and he yelped as he almost fell back out into the corridor.

"Sorry," Rodney said, gripping his arm as he stumbled.

Sheppard shook him off. "You could try knocking," he said coldly.

"I was just about to when the door opened," Rodney protested. He frowned, his brow creasing as he studied him. "How long have you been standing there anyway?"

Rodney's hair was damp, curling in tight ringlets against shower-warm skin and Sheppard realized with a start that he must have been standing here quite a while if the other man had already showered and changed.

"What do you want?" he said curtly, stepping back into his room and blocking the doorway.

"I came to see how you are," Rodney returned. "And now I have and I see you're crappy." He lifted his hand and touched John's forehead. He was shrugged off irritably.

"For god's sakes, McKay!"

"And you're in shock," Rodney continued imperturbably. "You should still be in the infirmary. If Carson were still here he would never have let you leave like this. He would have -"

"Well, Carson's not here," Sheppard said harshly. "He's dead. Just like Ford's dead and Fulton's dead. And sitting around afterwards and crying about it isn't gonna change it. So if you don't mind."

"Colonel," Rodney protested, but this time when the door slid shut Sheppard made sure it wouldn't open again. Not bothering to listen to the inevitable protests from outside John stumbled to his bed, bone-deep weariness catching up with him all at once. He stretched out on the narrow bunk, chills running over his skin, images playing behind his burning eyes. Maybe McKay was right, maybe he was in shock but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted it to stop for a while, just wanted to block everything out.

Flinging his arm over his eyes he clenched his teeth and hoped for the oblivion of sleep.

888

A hand touched his forehead, impossibly warm against his chilled skin.

"Goddammit, McKay," Sheppard mumbled. "What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?"

"Which part of 'you're in shock' don't you understand?" McKay said and Sheppard opened his eyes at the clunk of china and cutlery.

"I'm not hungry."

"Just as well the food's for me then." Rodney reached for his shoulders and Sheppard shrugged him away and pushed himself up against the headboard.

"You are the most stubborn man I have ever met," John said wearily.

"I bought tea," Rodney announced. "Hot and sweet, isn't that supposed to be good for shock?"

John accepted the mug, a shiver running over his skin at the welcome warmth on his cold hands. Rodney grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and shook it out before draping it over him.

"You'll make someone a wonderful wife one day." The tea was hot and sweet, and John swallowed painfully. He hadn't even realized how parched he was.

Rodney ignored him and perched on the edge of the bed, picking up a sandwich and biting into it. The sat in silence for long moments, chewing and sipping, not looking at one another.

"The other day I needed some equipment moved in the labs and I grabbed a couple of marines to help. Fulton was one of them," Rodney said.

John stared down into the swirl of sweet, milky tea.

"I can't say I noticed them much, you know me and names. But I remember pointing out what I wanted done to Fulton, and he said 'Yes, Ma'am.' Then he realized who I was." Rodney snuffled a chuckle. "You should have seen his face. I know you're putting the fear of god into those marines when it comes to me, but I swear, I thought he was going to have a heart attack! All three of them gave me this look of abject terror, it was hilarious." Rodney shook his head, a smile still playing around his mouth. "Every one of them over six feet tall, shoulders like football players, and they were looking at me like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar."

John pictured Fulton the way he'd been this morning. Blonde hair cut in a severe brush cut. Fair skin flushed with excitement. His first trip through the gate in the Pegasus Galaxy.

"I couldn't help it, I just shook my head and then they all started to laugh." Rodney chuckled. "Before they left Fulton said to me: "My mama taught me to be polite to girls."

"His mother," John murmured. "I have to write his mother a letter and tell her how her polite son was killed. What exactly am I supposed to say? He was ripped apart by a monster on an alien planet? That it could have dropped out of the trees on any one of us? That he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"You say what we always say in the letters," Rodney said quietly, and John remembered that as head of the Science Department Rodney had written more than his fair share of those letters himself. "You say he was a brave young man who gave his life to save others. It's true enough."

"Except no one was saved," John said. "Nothing was gained. He just got ripped to shreds and died choking on his own blood. For nothing."

"We can't all go out saving the galaxy," Rodney pointed out. "We're not all going to get heroic deaths. Sometimes it's enough just to be here. Doing our part."

John shook his head. "It's too much," he whispered. "It's too costly. All the lives we've had to trade to keep this place. Can you honestly tell me you think it's worth it? I mean look at what happened to you," he said bitterly. "Everything this place has cost you. Can you honestly tell me that you don't regret signing on for this mission?"

Rodney met his eyes in shock, then looked away, drying curls tumbling over his smooth forehead.

"I'm sorry," John muttered remorsefully. "I shouldn't have said that."

This was why he'd asked to be left alone, this is why he needed to crawl into his safe bolt-hole after a mission like today's. Because he wasn't fit to be around people when he got like this. Years of bitterness tended to spill out - corrosive like acid.

"Most people seem to think I... traded up," Rodney said, so quietly that Sheppard had to lean forward a little to hear him. He glanced at Sheppard and grimaced. "That seems to be the general consensus. Younger, better looking. More hair."

"Nobody really thinks that," Sheppard denied.

"Yes, they do. They don't get it the way you do. They don't understand what I've... lost. Sometimes I think you're the only one who gets it, and that's my fault, I guess, since I've never really spoken to anyone except you about it."

John blinked in surprise. "You haven't?"

Rodney shrugged. He fussed absently with the blanket, pulling it up, tucking it against John's chest. Sheppard caught at his hovering hands, stilling the nervous movements and Rodney looked down for a moment, curls obscuring his eyes, Then he glanced up and attempted a smile.

"I miss you sometimes," Sheppard blurted out.

Rodney blinked. "What?"

Now John shrugged, a little embarrassed. "You know. The old you."

"You do?" Rodney tilted his head and stared at him curiously.

"I guess. The way your eyes used to light up when you found something cool." John frowned, looking back into the past a little way. "That smug smirk you used to get when you were right and everyone else was wrong."

Rodney demonstrated his smug smirk.

"Yeah, that one."

"I don't," Rodney said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"To answer your question. I don't regret coming to Atlantis. I mean, if we're talking do-overs, obviously my big one would be: 'don't touch the damn machine!'. But even without that - I would still come along."

John studied his friend's thoughtful face, so different, and yet, sometimes, so much Rodney McKay it made something in his chest hurt.

"At the risk of inflicting another smug smirk on you," Rodney continued, eyes brightening. "I've done some of my finest work here. Impelled, often by sheer terror, into pushing limits I never thought possible."

"I guess you have," John acknowledged.

"And you? Or is today not the day to ask that question?"

John seriously thought about it, turning it over in his mind. He looked down, realizing he was still holding one of Rodney's hands in his, callused thumbs sliding over small, pale fingers. He remembered sitting with Rodney in the jumper, carefully touching this hand as his friend came to terms with his new life. It had still seemed alien then, this little hand, so small and pale. Memories of those other, masculine hands had been clear in his mind's eye.

But these were Rodney's hands now. Sheppard had watched them flying over Rodney's keyboard, coaxing life from long dormant Ancient hardware. These hands cradled a P-90, flew a puddle jumper with wild enthusiasm, chased meatballs around a plate.

John looked up and saw Rodney gazing down at his captured hand, stray curls brushing his forehead, long lashes fanning his cheeks.

"I wish I was better at this," Rodney said regretfully.

John frowned curiously. "What?"

"Comforting you." Rodney lifted his other hand and laid it over their joined fingers. "The way you comforted me."

John lifted a brow. "Is that what you're doing?"

"It's what I'm trying to do," Rodney said, a trace huffily. "I'm rather hurt you couldn't tell."

John thought about it. "Huh," he said blankly. "I guess that is what you're doing." He wondered why it had taken him so long to realize it, but figured he was tired and still a little shocky. "Thank you?" he ventured.

Rodney gazed at him for a few seconds, then smiled, dimple flashing. "Well, if I'm bad at giving comfort, you're equally crap at accepting it."

"Out of practice," John said, eyes on the curve of Rodney's cheek and that elusive dimple. It didn't appear often, now that he thought about it. Rodney's smug smiles, his superior ones, even his smirks of crowing triumph didn't bring it to life. Just moments like these, when Rodney gazed at him out of soft brown eyes, a pink flush mantling his cheekbones.

One hand lifted and without a moment's further thought John was curving it around the fragile curve of Rodney's face, brown curls brushing his knuckles, thumb lifting and smoothing over soft pale skin. And Rodney tilted his head, leaning into the touch and lowering his eyes with a soft sigh.

John's breath escaped him in a halting rush. Rodney felt so good under his hands, so warm and full of life. He took a deep breath and Rodney's scent washed over him, clean and sweet.

"This," John croaked, then cleared his throat. "This is still a very bad idea."

Rodney hummed agreement, body curving closer now as John's hand slipped around to the tender nape of his neck and exerted just the tiniest pressure.

"Very bad," Rodney whispered, and John tasted the cool scent of the other man's breath on his lips and realized he was still pulling forward and Rodney was leaning into him, one hand tangled with his, the other tentatively touching his shoulder and gripping the material of his t-shirt.

This was happening, John realized dimly. And they were both letting it happen. Rodney's lips were inches from his own, Rodney's hand was burning warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt and into the chilled skin beneath. Rodney was lifting long lashes and looking at him, eyes open and clear.

"Sheppard," he said, and John knew this was Rodney's way of telling him that even though he was caught up in the moment he wasn't lost in it. He knew exactly where he was and what he was doing.

How long had he and Rodney been communicating so clearly anyway?

John swallowed hard, sense filtering back into him. The haze was lifting, awareness was coming back, consequences loomed. All the same...

"McKay," he said, attempting a smile, although before it could form Rodney was closing the gap and their lips met.

_Finally, _John thought, twisting to meet the kiss, lips parting as Rodney tasted, lifted away a little and leaned back in. That Rodney had taken charge was clear as he pressed into the kiss, so John just closed his eyes and let himself be carried away. Rodney nipped at his lips, caught his lower lip and sucked on it gently, then finally tilted his head again and went for it, mouth opening, tongue stroking into Sheppard's mouth and licking impatiently.

"God," John muttered as Rodney pulled away from his swollen mouth and attacked the curve of his jaw, trailing his lips down the vulnerable curve of John's neck. He flung his head back as the other man pressed a string of suckling kisses down to his throat, McKay's panting breath bathing his skin, warming him, making him shiver.

"Damn," Rodney said shakily, leaning his damp forehead on John's breastbone. "You're shivering. You're still in shock, aren't you? This is me being the worst friend in the world and taking advantage of you."

"Take advantage of me," John insisted, fingers tangling in McKay's hair and tugging gently. "I insist."

Rodney looked up and John drew in a breath at the rose pink flush on his skin, the wide luminosity of his eyes.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed, and then knew it was the wrong thing to say as Rodney's swollen lips twisted and he pulled away.

"Sorry," Sheppard said, skin chilling as Rodney separated them and drew back.

"It's okay," Rodney said quietly. "Just takes me by surprise sometimes, being reminded... But we should still stop. You're not exactly in your right mind and I'm not in my right body. It's a lethal combination."

John knew there was something he should be saying to Rodney's flat little pronouncement, but all of a sudden the day was catching up with him, and his denial turned into a cracking yawn.

"You should rest," Rodney said, but John reached out and caught his forearm before he could slide off the narrow bed. Blinking away the damp sheen of weariness from his eyes, John concentrated, wanting to get this right.

"I don't regret coming to Atlantis either," he managed. "I don't regret it, Rodney."

After the door closed behind him and John finally stretched back out on his bed, the memory of Rodney's hand in his own still warmed his chilled flesh, even as he finally fell into welcome sleep.

888

Stirring to consciousness hours later in the first rays of morning sunlight, John groaned and buried his head back in his pillow.

"God," he muttered, memories of the night before parading through his mind. Had he really kissed Rodney, let Rodney kiss him? All but begged Rodney to stay? What the hell had he been thinking?

Except he hadn't been thinking, he admitted to himself as stripped off his soiled clothes and finally stepped into a shower. At least not thinking with his big brain. Weeks and months of attraction had boiled up into that burst of passion, and John resisted the urge to run a soapy hand down his belly and stroke himself a little at the memory.

"Rodney McKay," he said sternly to himself. "Dr Rodney McKay," he repeated as he stood in front of his shaving mirror a few minutes later, towel wrapped firmly around his waist. "You know that," he pointed out to his misty reflection. He swiped away a swathe of beard and tapped his razor on the sink. "You're the one who never saw him any differently, right? The one who stayed his friend and treated him exactly the same, no matter how he looked on the outside."

"So what the hell happened?" his reflection asked reasonably. "If you still saw him as the same person, why did you start lusting after him? Him. HIM! It's not like you didn't know all along that he's still a man underneath that pretty surface."

"Maybe the surface is all I'm interested in," John said defensively. "Maybe I really am just that shallow."

His reflection stared back, dumbfounded.

"Am I really that shallow?" he said.

"Are you talking to yourself in there?"

John dropped his razor into the sink with a clatter. "McKay?"

"Are you okay?" McKay called from the other side of the door. "Because I have to tell you, from out here you sound nuts."

"Sorry if you caught me in a private moment in my own bathroom!" Sheppard yelled as he pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants. He opened the door and Rodney turned and blinked at him through the dissipating cloud of steam.

"No need to apologise," Rodney said airily. "I've been known to have a few conversations with myself as it happens. Although that's mostly since it's virtually impossible to find someone of my own intellectual level to have a conversation with." He tilted his head curiously. "What were you talking about?"

"Nothing interesting," John said irritably. "Just practicing my insane babble for when you finally drive me into the loony bin."

"Huh," Rodney said thoughtfully and John shifted, unaccountably uncomfortable under that keen regard. Then Rodney shrugged and stepped closer. Anyway, are you okay?" Rodney said, standing on tiptoes and peering into his eyes. "Feeling better? Shock all gone?"

"Yes," John said impatiently, swatting away Rodney's hand as it reached to feel his forehead. "I'm fine. Now stop fussing, mother."

"Don't call me that," Rodney ordered, stripping off his jacket and flinging it over a chair back. "It's disturbing. Especially in light of this." And with that he caught at Sheppard's shoulders and jumped up into his arms, wrapping trim legs around his waist and propelling him back onto the bed.

"What the hell," John oofed as Rodney straddled him. "McKay?"

"Shut up," McKay said. Then his mouth was on John's and he was kissing him, and it was the night before all over again, Rodney in charge, that hot mouth devouring his lips hungrily.

John went with it for a moment, then sanity returned and he pushed against narrow shoulders, twisting his mouth free. "I mean it, McKay," he panted. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Nothing, yet," Rodney grinned wickedly, then attacked his neck with suckling kisses. Sheppard threw his head back and moaned at the press of firm, young breasts against his chest, the heat of McKay's body straddling his belly. And that wicked mouth, finding spots long neglected and pressing them with generous wet kisses.

"Rodney," John panted. "I'm serious. I'm serious!" he said, pulling back and pressing Rodney away from him. "Will you just stop for a second, you lunatic!"

"Fine," Rodney said, settling back on his knees, still straddling John, hands pressed against his chest. "I'll give you 30 seconds to freak out, and then we're doing this, okay?"

"We are, are we?" John said sarcastically. "Just because you say so?"

"Oh, please." Rodney wriggled a little, the heat between his legs burning through his pants and the thin material of John's t-shirt. "I know that's not a gun in your pocket, etcetera etcetera. Besides, you were the one who wanted to keep going last night, I'm the one who was all noble and left you to recover."

John bit back a moan at the press of Rodney's butt against his crotch and tried to maintain some semblance of control. "So now you just walk in here and leap on me?"

Rodney stopped his distracting wriggle and gazed down at him. "You didn't like the leap? I've been planning it for hours. It's the only thing that got me through the night without coming back here and crawling into your bed."

A hot flush of heat was working its way up from John's groin to his belly. His conversation with himself was still fresh in his mind and he reflected that it was a shame Rodney had interrupted him before he actually sorted anything out. What was his objection to this again?

Rodney hands were running over the flat planes of John's chest, thumbs finding the hard points of his nipples and stroking them through the thin cloth. John resisted the urge to pull his t-shirt off and press those hands to his bare flesh.

"The other day you said you were freaked out about this," he said weakly, arching a little as Rodney stroked firmly at his aching nipples.

"I said I _should_ be the one freaked out about this," Rodney corrected. "And I was and did. Then I got over it and moved on." He lifted a curious brow and gazed into John's eyes. "You mean you didn't?"

"I didn't know we were supposed to!" John said defensively. "What about all that stuff you said? We said. About being on the same team and being friends and wanting things to go back to the way they were?"

"Yeah," Rodney snorted derisively. "Like that's gonna to happen."

"Well not with that attitude it won't!"

"Do you really want it to?" Rodney asked keenly and John felt the beginnings of panic at the direct question.

"What?"

"Come on, Sheppard," Rodney said, looking incongruously serious for someone straddling a man's belly. "I'm laying it all out on the line here. Do you want me to go?"

"I didn't say that," Sheppard said weakly. Was Rodney serious? Leaping on him, kissing him, _wriggling_ on him for god's sake. Did he really expect John to tell him to go after all that? Had he totally forgotten what it felt like to be a man? "I'm just reminding you of what you said, that's all."

"Huh," Rodney said thoughtfully. "Well, fair enough, I did say all that. And I meant it at the time. But then I thought... what the hell."

John blinked. "What the hell?" he repeated blankly.

"Life's too short," Rodney said somberly. "I mean, I always knew that, it's hard to live in the Pegasus Galaxy and not know that. And this isn't about what happened yesterday or even about Carson. Well, maybe it is a little about what happened yesterday, but not the way you think. Because when that poor kid was dying I wasn't thinking about how it could have been me, you know? Well, maybe a little bit, but not completely. Mostly I was thinking that it could have been you, like when that bug got you that time. And I kept on thinking that what if you'd died back there, or I had, or we died tomorrow or next week? And I never did this. I never told you..."

Rodney ran out of steam a little, and the flush of heat burning in John's belly had become a tide of warmth that flooded right through him. Gripping narrow hips he rolled, pushing Rodney onto his back and leaning over him, looking down into startled brown eyes.

"Told me what?" he murmured, as Rodney pressed up against him, all soft, warm curves.

"You smell really good," Rodney blurted out.

Sheppard snorted and laughed, head collapsing onto Rodney's shoulder, face tucked into the graceful curve of his neck. "This again?" he said incredulously. "Is that really what you wanted to tell me?"

"Shut up," Rodney said crossly, batting at his shoulder. "That was just a spur of the moment comment."

"Oh, okay," John said, humming his pleasure into soft skin. Because Rodney was stroking his hips, hands pushing up under his shirt and smoothing over the skin of his back. John half-closed his eyes in pleasure at the caress. He nuzzled back into Rodney's throat, lips skimming flushed skin, finding his pulse point and touching it with the tip of his tongue.

"Rodney?" he murmured. "Are you really sure about this?"

"No, the well-planned and perfectly executed leap was a spur of the moment thing. Jeez, are you always this hard to get into bed?"

"I think you know the answer to that," John said, trying for quiet dignity. It was a bit spoiled when Rodney tickled his sides with nimble fingers, making him wiggle and squirm. "No tickling," he ordered. "And I had to ask. Because none of those other reasons have exactly gone away. Friends, team mates, Atlantis. You being a man in there."

Rodney lifted his head and pressed a kiss to John's lips. "It's Rodney in here," he said softly. "This is who Rodney is now. And Rodney wants..." He groaned and pressed up again, legs wrapping around John's waist and gripping hard. "Rodney really really wants," he panted.

John wasn't going to deny that he really really wanted as well. It was probably way too late for denial anyway, with his erection pressed into the cradle of Rodney's thighs. Apparently the fact that Rodney was a man in there wasn't bothering his dick in the least, and if Little Shep was happy to go the shallow route, who was Sheppard to deny him? Anyway, he had plenty of time to worry about it when Rodney wasn't laying underneath him all warm and soft and...

He let his big brain shut down and reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside. Rodney's hands instantly found his chest and he ran his fingers over the firm planes, scritching gently at the curving pattern of hair and rubbing over sensitive nipples.

Then John was kissing him again, and Rodney was kissing back, rolling them over until John was underneath him once more, head thrown back as Rodney ravaged his lips, his stubbled cheeks, the tanned skin of his neck. And John let him, content to let Rodney take the lead if that was what he wanted, and then even more than content as Rodney pushed back and pulled off his own shirt and bra, tossing the tangle of fabric aside.

"God," John moaned as Rodney pressed back down on him, firm nipples dragging over his chest, soft breasts caressing his burning skin. "God, Rodney."

"I knew it would feel like this," Rodney moaned. "I knew it would be... Here," and he grabbed John's hands and lifted them to his chest. Experience took over and John cupped Rodney's breasts gently, thumbs finding the nipples and stroking over them, calluses against ultra-soft skin.

Rodney moaned and ground down against him, body going limp for a moment as he shuddered and sighed. John caught at narrow shoulders and cradled him tenderly.

"Did you just..." he asked in stunned pleasure.

"Sheppard," Rodney panted.

"You did," John realized. "Just from that?"

"I believe I told you how much I wanted this," Rodney said, cheeks flushed pink, eyes shining. "I might have neglected to mention how much I _needed_ this."

John kissed him, and then kissed him again, just because he couldn't resist. "That is so hot," he muttered, reaching for his pants and tugging at the fly. "My turn."

Rodney helped him, fingers getting in the way as John unzipped and arched his spine to pull pants and shorts from his lean hips, easing the fabric over his aching erection.

"Okay," Rodney said, his eyes wide. "Now I get the whole swagger thing."

"I do not swagger," John corrected automatically, hand finding his cock and sweeping down to its base. He bit back a groan of pleasure at his own firm grip.

"No, I mean the attitude," Rodney said, still looking and sounding awed, which shouldn't be as much of a turn-on as it was. "I was pretty well-hung too, even if I do say so myself. But you're..." He swallowed, hard, looking down at himself nervously. "Um."

Sheppard stroked himself again, eyes following the pale pink flush that was spreading like a tide down Rodney's throat to his breasts. "You look a little nervous," he observed.

Rodney flushed harder and snorted. "No, do I really?" he appealed sarcastically. "Gee, why do you think that is?"

"No need to get huffy," John murmured, eyes still on those pink, pink breasts. Which Rodney was now covering with his hands like a modest Venus.

"I'm up here," he said acidly and John shifted his gaze to stormy brown eyes. "You're a boob man," Rodney accused.

"Whenever I get the chance," John admitted. "Which is why it's so handy that you actually have boobs now."

"Handy?" Rodney repeated incredulously. "That's one way of putting it I suppose."

"Rodney," John said gently. "It's perfectly normal to be nervous your first time. This is my first time with a man who turned into a woman, so I completely understand."

Rodney shrugged his shoulders, eyes dropping to where Sheppard's fist was still lazily stroking himself. "Yeah, well," he muttered. "It's not just my first time as a woman, it's my first time with a man. This is practically a gay experience for me you know."

John considered this, wondering if this counted as a gay experience for him as well. Would the military consider this against the rules? Was this one of those things no one was supposed to ask and he wasn't supposed to tell?

He might have thought about it a bit longer, but Rodney had hunched his shoulders and was looking a little miserable, so he tossed away his introspection (again), and figured it was time for him to take charge for a while. Sitting up he scootched closer and wrapped his arms around Rodney's narrow form, figuring this was one of those times when nothing but a hug would do.

Rodney was stiff in his arms for a moment, then he slowly relaxed, uncurling his protective hands from around his rib cage and nestling closer.

John bit back a groan at the touch of firm young breasts against his chest. Down boy, he lectured himself. This was a comforting hug he was going for now, something he knew Rodney was pretty fond of.

"This is nice," Rodney said softly, laying his head on Sheppard's shoulders.

"Yeah," John agreed, letting his hands sweep down Rodney's spine, shivering at the feel of soft, downy skin under his palms. "It is pretty nice," he realized as Rodney snuggled closer. All the tension had left Rodney's body and John tugged him closer still, feeling the man's warmth soak into him. "You know it's okay," he whispered into a small ear. "We don't have to do the whole penetration thing. Not now, not ever if you don't want."

Rodney caught his breath in surprise, pulling back and peering into Sheppard's eyes. It wasn't hard to make out the rush of relief that suffused his face, or the flush of guilt that followed it. "Really? You don't mind?"

"I don't mind," Sheppard promised, and he was almost surprised to find he did mean it. Holding Rodney, feeling him warm and alive against him... It was much better than he'd ever imagined it might be.

"Uh, okay," Rodney said, one cheek creasing in a small smile. He took a deep breath and nodded determinedly and then his hand was reaching between them and wrapping around Sheppard's cock, stroking carefully.

"Rodney," Sheppard gasped as Rodney shifted back a little, his second hand coming into play. "Are you - oh god that feels so good - are you sure?"

"I can do this," Rodney said. "God knows I've had enough practice. On myself!" he added, eyes shooting to John's.

"I f-figured," John panted as Rodney's hands tightened.

"Huh," Rodney said, looking absorbed. He stroked again with both hands, then kept one stroking firmly while the other swirled over the slick head.

"God," John gritted out, and Rodney looked smug.

"Oh, yeah," he said happily. "It's all coming back to me now."

"Come here," John said gruffly, bending over and capturing his smiling mouth, stroking his tongue in and tasting Rodney hungrily. One hand gripped his shoulder but Rodney's other hand didn't falter, pumping John hard and fast, just the way he liked. "Wait," John said, pulling back a little, slowing Rodney's hand on his cock. "Let me..."

John pushed Rodney onto his back and fumbled at the waistband of his pants, unable to resist bestowing a kiss on his flat, heaving belly, and then another on one pouting nipple. Rodney bucked under his touch and the kiss became a suckle as John caught Rodney's narrow waist and held tight.

"Oh my god," Rodney panted, hands tangling in Sheppard's hair. "Don't stop," he whined as John pulled back, but he was only switching to the other nipple and Rodney gripped him again, keening wildly as John sucked hard, rolling the firm pebble of flesh under his tongue. Legs were wrapped around his waist again, and as John felt the slight body beneath him convulse once more he relaxed his grip, kissing gently and nuzzling the swollen nubs.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, then froze, remembering Rodney's reaction the night before.

But Rodney was smiling languidly at him when he risked a glance at his face.

"I want to be beautiful for you," Rodney confided dreamily. "How freaking weird is that?"

"Then we're both weird," John whispered, leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips. "Because I want you to want me as well." Rodney smiled, dimple deepening and John did something he'd wanted to do for weeks without even acknowledging it. He bestowed a soft kiss on that smiling crease.

"I do want you," Rodney whispered back. "I want you to touch me."

John kissed him again, then carefully reached for his waistband, loosening the fly and tugging the uniform pants and his underwear down his legs. Rodney's cheeks were still flushed, and for a moment he looked a little self conscious again as he stretched out next to John on the narrow bed.

"You're beautiful," John said again, and Rodney shrugged and looked pleased, although his skin was still pink and his hands fluttered a little as if he wanted to cover himself up. John solved his dilemma by covering Rodney with his own body, kissing him again and again until Rodney relaxed underneath him, small hands finding his shoulders and back and smoothing down.

Finally John spread Rodney's legs with his knee, and stroked his hand down over his sweat dampened skin, heaving breasts, trembling belly. Touching his fingers to the weeping head of his own cock, John's fingers then found soft, brown curls and slid into the warm, damp folds between Rodney's legs.

Rodney cried out, spine bending as he arched up, head thrown back, chest heaving. John's free hand went to his cock, but he barely had to stroke more than twice before he was coming as well, just the look on Rodney's face as he spasmed and called out his pleasure enough to bring him over the edge. It was short and intense, and when it was over John had collapsed with his head on Rodney's shoulder, his twitching cock still half hard in the crease of Rodney's thigh.

Rodney had his eyes closed, but his mouth was stretched into a smile and he was humming gently.

John knew just how he felt.

"Three times," Rodney was saying, mouth curved in a satisfied smile.

"Uh," John agreed, never at his best after a mind blowing orgasm.

"Teyla said it could be like that," Rodney continued happily. "Each time better than the last. She wasn't exaggerating."

John let his mind grasp the reality of Rodney and Teyla talking about orgasms, and oddly he was all right with it. Little Shep was apparently all right with it as well, because he twitched wearily and would have stood and applauded if he'd had the strength.

Little Shep was a bit of a perv, John reflected sleepily.

"Oh my god, you're one of those guys who goes to sleep right after, aren't you?"

"And you're one of those women who want to talk about their feelings," John murmured, then opened his eyes in a panic at the thought. "You're not, are you?"

"Ha!" Rodney chortled. "Scared yourself there, didn't you? Luckily for you I'm still guy enough to cringe in horror at the very thought."

"Thank god," John sighed, relaxing back onto the bed. "And I'll have you know that it's a proven fact that post-coital sleep is the most restful sleep a body can have. And I need my rest."

"Damn right you do," Rodney agreed, snuggling down next to him. "Because it's also a proven fact that multiple orgasms are good for a woman's health and well-being. So get your rest, Sheppard, you're going to need it."

John thought about that for a moment with the few brain cells he had left.

"Huh," he said, "Okay."

End of Part Five


End file.
